Match-ing matching

6570 days. Of loving safeguarding observing teaching listening and letting go. 

Learning to be vigilantly nonchalant, lovingly tough, fearfully confident; never graduating to beyond the advanced beginner level. Parenting is full of oxymoronic situations!

As Advaith turns 18, I’ve been reflecting on how I (we) did. Did we equip him with everything he needs as he travels to college and beyond? Did we teach him to be independent but not be afraid to ask for help; to be confident but humble; to be kind and helpful but establish the right boundaries; to advocate for himself but spare a thought for others? 

Suddenly, a lightbulb moment-  how could I have missed this!

"Ads," - I yell - "do you know how to strike a match?"

My son looks at me with a resigned expression, which reads - What random question is this woman throwing at me now?

"Of course I know, Ma", he dismisses me.

"Ok, how?"

"I know it ok? You do the thing with the thingy."

"Can you come here and show me how you do the thing with the thingy please?" I insist. 

"When am I ever going to use a match Ma?" He whines.

"I don't know, but please learn how to, right now."

Anyway, it’s clear he’s never used one before but after a couple of tries, he lights a match, throws it down in disgust, and walks off.

Mission accomplished!

Feeling ok with being looked down upon by one’s progeny - literally and figuratively - is also a key parenting skill!

As I keep reminding my kids - your brains aren't fully developed until you are 25. And I have a 30 years head start on you guys!

Some thoughts (before Mother's Day 2022)

Where did the years go? Almost 17 years as a parent, and I am still stumbling and fumbling. Amazed at other parents' confidence that they have it all figured out. NO. A hundred times no. This parenting thing is humbling and emaculating. 

The days are long but the years are short. This cliche has never seemed more real than now when the days seem to be rushing by with indecent haste. He is driving. He is shaving. Soon he will start filling out college applications. 

In a little over a year from now, I will not know things that I have known with certainty every day for 17 years. When he woke up. When he left for school. When he had lunch (did he have lunch?!!). When he returned home. What he did in the evenings. What is his weekend schedule.

This one thought terrifies me. Knowing that millions of parents face the same choices some time or the other is irrelevant. I read that sending your kids off to college is "bittersweet" and I think - "How is it sweet? There is nothing but bitterness."

I take solace from these lines from Gibran.

"You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."

NOW they tell me I have to be a stable bow, whatever the hell that means?

I have, however, been an excellent potted plant. Some years ago there was an article in the New York Times citing research showing the psychological benefits for teens of having at least one parent around in close proximity. “Importantly, the studies of parental presence indicate that sheer proximity confers a benefit over and above feelings of closeness or connectedness between parent and child.....Quality parenting of a teenager may sometimes take the form of blending into the background like a potted plant."

I have loved that metaphor and unreservedly shared this pearl of wisdom with all and sundry. I can be a potted plant, no problem! Our teens may act like they don’t really need us, and they often ask us to get out of their rooms, but they do need our simple and silent presence. I know it when Ads comes up to my bedroom every night and silently nuzzles me and I know we are communicating even though I'm not exactly sure what's being said :) Probably (I hope!) the things that have no words- I love you. I'm fine. Thank you?

Oh well. Thank goodness for potted plants and stable bows :)

Goals for 2021 and 2020 report card

Since 2019, our family has had a formal goal-setting exercise every December, for the New Year. Since 2020 we expanded to doing a family meeting at the end of every month to review where we are on our goals, how the last month went, what's top of mind of us for the next month etc. 

Last year's "performance", I am quite happy about actually. My goals were doable, and some I knocked out of the park. And for the rest, well it was 2020....we can be kind to ourselves :(

Report Card 2020 (and my report card for 2019)

Learn swimming - Did start classes in early 2020 at our health club, which shut down in March 2020 :( At this rate, I might be pushing 60 by the time I learn to swim like my kids!

Teach Ads some life skills - same as last year. We made some good progress. I don't do much after dinner other than putting the leftovers away, which is great because clearing up after a meal is my least favourite activity. Ads now (most days) cleans the kitchen after dinner. He wipes down the dining table and all the counters, the gas stove, sweeps the floor, and if I am on a call or something, loads the dishwasher. Y is in charge of refilling the water filter and making me my post-dinner cup of green tea :)) I taught Ads to cook things like Maggi but still a long way to go.

Join another nonprofit Board - Done, since April 2020

Work on Ads' college plan - Middling progress. Since he doesn't know what we wants to do, I'm somewhat at a loss on what I am supposed to research on!

Paint more - Accomplished. 

Write more - On this blog and Linkedin/Medium. Accomplished.

 

Some of the other goals carried over from 2019 were accomplished as well. Exercising and meditating every day, reading a Tamil book, and teaching S how to cook (he has learnt a LOT and very comfortable cooking a full meal now). In addition, COVID gave me the opportunity to resurrect an old hobby - singing.

Goals 2021

Lose weight- This will be the hardest, I think?

Meaningful work portfolio (including my Board work)

(Continue to) paint, sing, write - have targets for each of these :) 

Ads' college research 

Connect regularly with friends and family - something we started doing more intentionally in 2020 when we couldn't travel. I reconnected with school and college buddies and with cousins and extended family a lot more in 2020. Hope to continue this good habit going forward as well.

End of summer

This long summer is winding down. We are getting prepped for school. We have had virtual open houses, meeting with homeroom teacher for Y, picking up laptops and other materials, etc. In between, Ads turned 15, and to celebrate, we went on a short vacation to southwestern Virginia, on the Tennessee/North Carolina border. We stayed in a gorgeous Airbnb, went on a long bike ride (17 miles!), and hiked in a beautiful state park with some amazing views. A much-needed break after being cooped up in the house for months.

I had my birthday a few days ago and we didn't do much, cake-cutting and chilled at home. I was thinking of birthdays when I was in school and college. Greeting cards, some arriving by post. The birthday "dress". Going to school and getting handmade cards from friends, and in some cases, small gifts (so treasured!). Having to "treat" those same friends on the way home, with ice-cream or pastries. The simplicity of it all, and the thrill! I had a party for my birthday just twice, for my 1st birthday and for my 10th birthday. After those celebrations, I cut a cake for the first time at our campus hostel in Bangalore in 1997. 

Many more people wish me for my birthdays nowadays, thanks to social media. While I appreciate the FB posts and the Whatsapp messages, nothing makes me happier than an old friend taking the time to pick up the phone and call. And my really close friends do. Not all of them, every year; but most of the time, they call and we have a long chat about everything under the sun. We don't send greeting cards to each other anymore. But their voices and their laughter make up for it several times over.

The questions we must ask - a letter to my kids circa 2020

Why do old men run for President, asked my daughter. 

My innocent one, don't you know?

That's just one question of many.  

Why do white men rule?

Why do black men die?

Why do baby girls get killed in the womb,

or raped and murdered outside?

Why do the poor have to be poor,

when the rich are so very rich?

You know some of your schoolmates have to have free meals.

Why do we treat animals, even worse than we do our own kind?

I hope we raised our children to ask these questions, 

relentlessly, doggedly, repeatedly; 

I hope you are braver than we are.

More empathetic, less apathetic. 

I hope you care deeply and feel strongly.

I hope you protest, dissent, debate and oppose, 

but also give, comfort, agree and respect.

I hope you always feel that you did your best, 

but that you could have done just a little bit more.

I'd rather you sometimes felt honest incertitude in your beliefs,  

than constant unwavering assurance in your rightness. 

I hope you compromise, question, contemplate and endorse; 

but also thwart, confront, negotiate and defy. 

Does it feel like I'm asking too much?

I know you will do all these things, and more;  

your thoughtful questions tell me so.

Our rules and laws and conventions, they

circumscribe us, but your desires and thoughts will be limitless.

When I get depressed (as I often do), that in the same week 

that we launch astronauts into space,  

we descend into hateful depths of racism and bigotry,   

I am comforted by what you will do.

Only in optimism do we move forward. 

The Confidence Gap

Last year, Y's school asked for kids in her grade to self-nominate if they would like to stand for election to a few school office-bearer posts. Initially, Y showed some interest but as she got to know more about what it involved, she rapidly backed off. I tried to encourage her to stand, remembering full well my attempts at such electioneering in my school days, most of which led to thumping defeats! But all my encouragement seemed to make it worse. She simply did not want to make posters, stick them up all over the school, give speeches and generally ask for votes. I let it go, thinking that she may be more confident after a year. After all, it was her first year in a strange environment. 

Of late, I have noticed a worrying insecurity that lurks beneath her surface confidence. She will show us our assignments but balk at showing them to her brother. Ads is notoriously critical (those Virgo genes!) and does not mince words when offering feedback (he is also very mature about accepting feedback about himself or his work, recognizing that the comments are not personal but designed to help him improve). Yuks, unfortunately, does not have the maturity to accept constructive (if blunt) feedback in an unemotional, impersonal way.

Often, showing us something she has made, she will preemptively announce "It's very bad, I know" and rush off into another room while we examine her work. A few days ago, she showed me a school assignment and while I was reading it, she was crouched under the bed as though I was going to pronounce a sentence on her!

Every time, I tell her the same thing. It's your work. If you put in your best effort, it's good. Don't aim for perfection. If it is flawed, or imperfect, you need to love and respect it anyway because it's yours. Don't allow other's comments to hurt so much. Do take feedback and examine it carefully to see if it has merit, then use that feedback to improve. But ultimately, be your own judge and judge yourself kindly. 

Reading articles and books harping on this theme does not help. As much as I want my daughter to grow up to be a confident woman, I understand that modern pressures will always pull her down unless she learns how to recognize the insidious nature of her own mental blocks, and knows how to cope with them and ultimately surmount them. My alter ego, of course, is laughing heartily and sarcastically at my attempts to inject confidence into my kid when I myself am subject to imposter syndrome, performance anxiety and sundry other imaginary syndromes, disorders and maladies :))

So, still working on how to tackle this. One more parenthood challenge! Will it never end?? 

This is Us :)

It is Thanksgiving. My brother and his family are in town and we are joined for a few hours by my cousin and her husband and their grown-up kids. Stories fly around, fast and furious, some old, some I had never heard of. Family members near and distant are discussed threadbare. Peals and howls of laughter periodically punctuate the conversation. The children flit in and out of the discussion but mostly they just look bemused (in the case of the older kids, amused). Every now and then I glance at my husband, wondering whether he feels bored with all this family talk. However, I feel not a smidgen of guilt, having been a patient witness at similar gatherings of his family.

Later, in the family WhatsApp group, photos are posted. My father starts a thread reminiscing about the family home in erstwhile Madras and the many happy memories associated with it. Cousins, aunts and uncles jump in with their anecdotes about the house, sundry family members, vacations, weddings and other seminal events. 

Reading through it all, I can vicariously experience that long-gone lifestyle, a house and life teeming with extended family and friends, brimming with hospitality and generosity. Over the years, like all other families, this one too has gone through ups and downs. Its members now live far in time, distance and thought from that house in Madras, but their shared history and collective memories have woven a rich and unique tapestry that binds and cocoons generations of us, whether we are conscious of it or not.

One of my fondest childhood memories is lying down between my parents at bedtime, and drowsily listening to them talk over the days' events. For years (thanks to never having my own bedroom as long as I stayed with my parents!), I dropped off to sleep listening to the soft tones of two people recapping their day, discussing family matters and indulging in gentle gossip.

I'm in my forties, yet even now, I slide easily into the old ways. Sinking down onto the cool floor or onto the bed during afternoon siesta time, only for the pleasure of hearing my parents tell some stories. 

I think of the stories I tell my kids. About how I grew up, places, people and incidents that shaped me and made me what I am today. I think of similar stories my kids hear from their dad. I think of the stories that we laugh about amidst our close friends, the ones that have survived endless repetition. Doubtless, we'll continue to tell them well into our old age. I think of the new stories we started weaving after we became parents that are now a part of my children's memories. 

Family stories are free, portable, revealing, and inspiring. 

Stories capture the narrative arc of our lives. But more than that. They are us. And we are nothing without our stories.

Every now and then, I will sleep in Y's bedroom. Before we turn off the light, she will ask "Can we talk?" I acquiesce even if I am sleepy. She's only asking us to make more stories!

Bonding, Buddies, Budapest!

A long hiatus once more. But this precious experience has to be recorded for posterity! I read somewhere - "There are some people in life that make you laugh a little bit louder, smile a little bigger and live a little better." You have to be lucky to have plenty of such life-giving forces in your life. I certainly have been. To a friend that knows me from the primary years and pigtails stage, to a couple of high school friends, to some soul-mates from business school, I feel I have been incredibly blessed to have these women (and a couple of men!) in my life. 

Anyway, as one approaches and dives into the frothy forties and associated midlife crises (!), there's always an urge to reconnect and revitalize, whether with one's friends, spouses or even oneself. So this is how I got this brilliant idea to catch up on a short holiday with my mates from the far off days of b-school (17 years ago to be precise). The proposal was received with unstinted enthusiasm and because two of us were gong to be travelling from USA and the other two from India, Europe was the natural midpoint and selected destination. 

Much discussion followed as we wanted to select a place that none of us had been to, and this criterion effectively excluded most of the well-tramped destinations in Europe. Finally we agreed on Budapest. Tickets were booked (again a lot of back and forth). To avoid any value-added comments and what in IIMB we used to call CP (class participation), I took upon myself to figure out a place to stay. Airbnb came to the rescue and we booked a lovely spacious two-bedroom apartment in the heart of Budapest (more on that later).

As the day of departure approached, excitement levels peaked, though tempered by one of us dropping out of the trip due to work pressures. I flew to Mumbai to join my friend S and together we flew to Budapest, arriving almost at the same time as L from Chicago. Our airbnb host Laszlo came to pick us up from the airport and was doubtless chastened by the loud conversation and laughs and inability to listen to any of his tidbits regarding interesting landmarks of the city. The apartment was sparking clean, prettily decorated and super comfortable. Budapest was rainy and chilly the first two days and we spent the first evening doing boring things - buying groceries at TESCO and hunting frantically for a travel adapter to charge our phones (Note: Check on the pins/electricity sockets at your destination before you travel, do not assume you have the right adapter). One weird experience we had on Day 1 was two incidents when our selfies were photo bombed by random Hungarian men! The first time, we thought it was just Hungarian friendliness, but the second time, it was getting spooky and L was all set to poke her umbrella into the next guy who tried to act fresh.  

The next few days were spent exploring, walking (miles and miles), chatting and EATING. Hungarian food is delicious even for a vegetarian like me, and their wines are lip-smacking. Even a teetotaller like me started sampling small portions at every meal. Budapest is beautiful and historic and extremely tourist-friendly. Almost all the main sights were within walking distance of our apartment so we didn't really get to use the public transport much except to note that it seemed comprehensive and efficient. 

What stayed with me at the end of our trip were conversations and the implicit warmth of the people. Conversations with my friends of course, many and many of them over meals, coffees, wine and amazing views :) But also conversations with complete strangers. Like the affable elderly man (Laszlo again, seems like the most common Hungarian name) on Eurail, who spoke 7 European languages and spoke to us for a couple of hours in halting English. About farming, his family in Wales, our beautiful smiles and much much more. The pretty Hungarian shopkeeper who met us wearing a Hijab and told us she had converted to Islam to marry her Ghanaian boyfriend. We met her a couple of days later in a wholly different modern avatar and almost failed to recognise her when she came over to chat, having spotted L in a dress bought from her shop! The handsome young father who patiently helped us select a bottle of honey at the supermarket and then politely asked us if we needed his help to complete our shopping. The bus driver who refused to charge us the bus fare on seeing how lost and clueless we were, was just one in a line of people who debunked the myth of the dour East European. Wherever we went, we were met with friendliness charm and warmth. Perhaps, it was our irresistible charm that did the trick! Or maybe Hungarians are really that nice :)

S and I were also bowled over by the highly evolved design sensibility in Hungary. There is a lot of hand made work on offer, not just traditional but also very edgy and contemporary design. Be it jewellery, ceramics, leather or home accessories, the aesthetic element was very prominent. 

The killer reason to travel with friends? You can truly be in the moment. There are no kids (or husband) clamouring for your attention. There's no stress about mealtimes and bathroom breaks. You can explore the nightlife (Budapest is a party city!). You don't have to mediate WWIII. You can have a bad headache and it's really not that big a deal (because no one depends on you). Finally you can say anything cos you know what? You know they won't judge (Try this with good friends only!)

On the last day, S and I sat on the Gellert bridge with our shoes off and dangled our feet over the bridge. A mild breeze blew in from the Duna (Danube). There were cruise ships below, the majestic Buda castle to our left and the historic buildings of Pest to our right. We didn't talk much. We had a long journey back home ahead of us but for the moment, we were content to just be and gratefully revel in the silent magic of the day.

A view of the Gellert Bridge with Castle Hill/Buda on the left and Pest on the right

Heroes Square

Eger from on top of the Castle

Our first meal- Langosh and Goulash

Before biting into breakfast - Retes (pronounced "Ray-tesh") or Hungarial strudels

View of the Pest side of the city from on top of Buda Castle

The inside of St Stephens Basilica

All variety of Retes and breads

A square in Eger

Our living room

Living and kitchen

Bedroom

Kitchen and dining

Ad-Lib #12

Resurrecting the AdLib series, because my 10 yo says the best funniest things. Some of these I posted on my facebook page but I want to put them down here as well.

Y singing: "Love is an open door...."
As snapping: "No it isn't!!"
The literal-minded don't get poetry. 

Ads to me: How much do you love me?
Me: As much as the entire universe.
Ads: Do you mean the observable universe?
Me: Huh?? (standard reaction!)

Ads: You know Amma, Adolf Hitler is a great example of a person who persevered against all odds to realize his dream. He started his political party in 1918 but did not become Chancellor until 1933. He waited 15 years to get to where he wanted.
Me: That's actually a really good example.
Ads (wisely): Yes, but no one will like to use it and say Hitler was really good at something.